Vir Tanadhal: A Warden in Need
by GuileandGall
Summary: Cyna Mahariel is a creature of habit, but Zevran enjoys finding seemingly innocuous ways to interfere with them.


**Summary:** Cyna Mahariel is a creature of habit, but Zevran enjoys finding seemingly innocuous ways to interfere with them.

 **a/n:** Writing to fulfill a DA DWC Writing Prompt—"If I was blind I would see you."— sent by motherofgriffins (aka distractthegoddess ). Thank you so much for the wonderful request, and sincerest apologies for taking so long to fill it.

 **A Warden in Need**

Zevran stared across the camp, even in the low light of a waning moon Cyna still stood out at least to his keen eyes. She pushed long, thin fingers through her short, inky hair in an effort to get it to dry faster in proximity to the fire. Her free hand scribbled notes in a tattered old journal that she always kept close.

He wondered if it were her truest confidante. Certainly, she shared things with him, but in her openness, he always found something lacking, like there was some greater truth beneath each word, each look, something that she could not or would not share with him. Like any good mystery, it intrigued him.

Standing, he walked away from the fire unnoticed. Creeping around the edge of camp, the assassin came up beside her.

"Warden?" With that single first word, the book slammed closed. As he sat on the ground beside her, she glanced over at him. "What is it that you write about so furiously?"

"Just making notes on our journey," Cyna replied with an ease that suggested truth. But the tapping of her fingers on her knee gave her away.

Zevran leaned toward her. "I do love it when you lie to me, Warden."

Her eyes narrowed at his accusation.

"It takes one to know one," he added. Then he moved a hair closer. "I'd be glad to help you spice up a boring log."

Cyna just stared at him for several breaths, then the book and quill fell between her legs as she grabbed his collar. Zevran hummed as her tongue pushed past his pliable lips with a hunger that inflamed him.

"Andraste's knickers," Alistair called out. His exclamation was quickly followed by the unraveling of a tent flap.

The pair of them chuckled against one another. Zevran shied away from nothing. If the warden wanted him then and there, he had no qualms. Sadly, she broke their passionate kiss and stood. He followed her to her tent when she crooked her finger at him in a come hither gesture.

When he ducked into it, he tossed his shirt into the near corner, pleased to find her doing the same. He'd peeled out of his in the handful of steps between the fireside and her tent. His eyes raked over her tawny skin in the candlelight. The flickering flame added strange shadows that only accentuated the long lean muscles that bunched and flexed beneath her skin.

Both stared at one another, moving like two disparate beings staring at one another through mirrored glass. They slipped off boots and socks with almost synchronous gestures. Deft fingers unlaced trousers, letting them fall to the ground with quiet rustling. Then they teased a moment at the waistbands of small clothes. Zevran was already half-hard by the time he stepped out of the last vestige of his clothing. It left him a few precious moments to tease her as she unfurled the band that kept her breasts from interfering with the aim of her bow. Or at least that's the reason the Dailsh elf gave him once when he inquired.

Unbidden, he knelt before her, placing his thumbs on her labia to spread them enough for his tongue to delve between.

"Zev!"

How he loved hearing his name on her lips, even shortened with surprise as it was. It made him greedy. His tongue darted out again—another slow lick and a swirl around the rising nub at the apex.

Her breasts unbound and the cloth discarded, her hands delved into his hair. He hummed against her and she cried out again. Too many women were reserved, even in pleasure. Cyna's freedom of enjoyment excited him, emboldened him. Slipping her leg over his shoulder, Zevran thrust his tongue into her. Cyna dug her nails into his scalp, holding on for balance and encouragement.

He hissed against her, savoring the sharp bite of her short nails against his skin. Zevran didn't shy away from pain during sex. Quite the opposite, for him it could be the best kind of foreplay. It spurred his hunger for more, more of her. Pressing his tongue flat against her, he brought his mouth back to her clit and sucked it hard into his mouth.

"Creators!" she gasped, her head falling back. Her knee buckled a moment, but the warden caught herself. The reaction only buoyed his resolve.

Zevran could only imagine the way her eyes screwed shut tight against the sensations his clever tongue inspired; he could almost see the way her lips parted to allow those panting breaths to swirl around them in the low light. He stared up at her body with nearly insatiable desire. The tip of his tongue fluttered through her folds with lascivious ease. Finally, he gave up her flesh only long enough to lick his fingers. One teased into her slowly as he wrapped his lips around her clit once more, giving it a firm suckle.

The shudder in her moan made him smile against her. Single-minded in his focus, he worked that single digit into her, teasing at first. He savored the response of her body as much as her vocalizations—rapid quivering in strong, supple muscle. Her body flexed tight around his finger.

In a come hither gesture of his own, he curled his index finger against that rough spot inside her. He stared upward at her as he placed measured licks over her sensitive flesh. Her nipples were taut, one hand tugged and squeezed at her breast. Her chin rested against her chest and from time to time her green eyes found his before a flick of his tongue or calculated suck screwed them shut again with a reverberating moan.

Her other hand remained in his hair. Sometimes she tugged and pulled, there were tender caresses as well where she threaded her long fingers in spun gold silk. When her hand fisted tight in an attempt to hold him fast, he knew she was close. Cyna didn't like to give up her release, especially when she was at the precipice.

"By Mythal, Zevran," she grunted, her hips rubbing against his face with her own need and greed. It made his cock twitch. She came with a moan that no one in camp could have mistaken, missed, or slept through.

Her shameless enjoyment of him excited Zevran even more. He licked at her, hands moving over her legs waiting for the tremors to subside. But her fingers twisted in his hair and pulled his face away from her body as she sank to her knees before him. Her lips crashed against his, the sharp smack of teeth pulling a groan of discomfort from both of them, but it faded quickly. Pain outweighed pleasure as their tongues thrust against one another.

Zevran captured her bottom lip as Cyna broke the kiss. He sucked at it, his teeth tugging it with him. With the hiss passing through her clenched teeth, he grinned and gave it another sharp suck before letting go.

The hunger in her eyes threatened to consume him. Her nose nestled beside his, and that shade of green of her eyes, like the sun filtering through a forest canopy filled his vision. Her fingertips danced over his flushed skin with the lightness of butterfly wings. The sensation stood in exquisite contrast to the forceful manner she'd used on him when he happily buried his face between her thighs.

One ethereal stroke from a single well-calloused finger plucked at the sensitive tip of his cock, making it jump as if begging for her attention. The fluttering renewed, traveling over his thighs and stomach and chest, making muscles jump beneath featherlight touches.

 _Maker_ , he wanted her. Every muscle in his body seemed attached to the desires of his now aching cock. Even in the back of his mind, he could see it play out—pushing her backwards, and as her knees were already opened wider than his he could settle his body right between her thighs without a thought. In a heartbeat, he could bury himself into her wet cunt, prop his hands above her shoulders and pump himself to his finish with wild abandon.

He groaned at the thought, it fell deeper as that same touch flickered against his balls. His sack tightened. When her fingers continued along the length of his shaft, Zevran's jaw tightened, locking a growl low in his throat as his eyes closed.

"Will you do nothing but tease me, my warden?" he asked when he blinked his eyes open once more. His lilting voice was drenched in honey.

Her smile sparkled in her eyes and crinkled them at the corners. "This is the only time I see your restraint in action."

"So, it is a game?"

"No. No game. I enjoy seeing you struggle against the base desire that you're so free with in the world. You speak freely of sex and desire, but you'd never take it without the permission to do so." She stared at him, then slid her cheek against his, placing her lips at his ear. Her whisper tickled against his skin. "Even if in the back of that naughty, beautiful head of yours all you can think about is how my body would feel against yours. How I would welcome your cock and spur your release."

His eyes slipped shut. A sound rumbled in his chest when her fingers danced that same inflaming but infuriating dance around the head of his cock. The groan and his breath strangled in his throat when at the same time her lips clamped around his earlobe and her hand gripped his shaft, giving him a firm pump in stark contrast to the delicate flit of her fingers.

"Cyna!" he gasped, his hips chasing her touch as it pulled away.

"Tell me you want me, Zevran," she whispered against his neck as she placed slow wet kisses down toward and over his shoulder.

His cock ached for her touch to return, but her palms pressed gently over his ribs. "Yes. More than anything."

He hissed as her tongue burned a trail up his throat and ended in a sharp bite. "What will you do to me?" she asked, as her plump lips brushed against his.

"Anything and everything you desire."

"Tell me."

The pleading in her voice made him ache. And as she scratched down the center of his chest past his hips, Zevran hissed in anticipation of having her touch him again. But her hands parted and continued down his thighs, raising a displeased but rapacious hiss.

His mind fogged with desire, taking far too many heartbeats to clear. "It would be far too easy," he started, giving her nipple a tug. "Your legs are already spread. One push and I could bury myself in you before you even catch your breath."

"But that's not what you want, is it? I thought you preferred a challenge."

His tongue darted out over his lips. "Well, now," he purred. "You know me, I'm always up for a challenge."

The next moment she pulled away, her hands covering his eyes. "Can you keep up that confidence without your keen senses?"

"Si, Amora, I can master any challenge." He leaned toward her until he felt breath on his lips. "Even blind, I would still see you."

Her lips crashed against his, her hands diving into his hair. The momentum of her body pushed him back on his calves. Following her lead, he unfurled his legs as her thighs straddled his. The welcome heat of her enveloped him with an easy flick of her hips, practiced as they had become at this together. Her body moved against his with a frenzied rhythm. Her fingers threaded through his hair as she clung to his shoulders. His own palm splayed at the small of her back, guiding the rock of her hips.

Foreheads pressed together gasping in one another's breath, they lingered, engulfed in one another. Her gaze held his even as her pants quickened. Her body tightened around him and as she went silent. Finally, her eyes slipped closed. He snapped his hips in an effort to bring forth the content groan building beneath that lack of sound. More than anything, wanted to hear it, see that look in her eyes when it all washed away except the pleasure he brought her.

"Zev!" she cried out when it broke free. Green eyes snapped open and she held onto him tight as her body shuddered in his grasp.

"Yes, Amora," he growled.

Her hips bucked wildly against his. The tight pull of her body brought his own release with it. His long, low grunts joined the chorus of her sharp, short moans.

"Cyna," he groaned, repeating her name with each pump of his hips as he spilled within her.

Arms around one another, they sat there. Bodies slick with sweat, foreheads touching and still locked in a sexual embrace—his arms circled her waist, as hers pulled at his cradled his shoulders and head—neither moved. They just stared at one another as their breathing slowed, as he softened within her, as the quivering muscles in her stomach calmed.

"I am yours," he whispered against her lips, but it was Cyna that sealed the kiss. Zevran knew it was all the reply he'd get, and at that moment it was enough.


End file.
